


Old Moon Fades into the New

by meowsbian



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, but of course comments and constructive criticism are always welcome, fluff fluff nothing but fluff, this is my first fic please be nice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2019-11-05 14:03:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17920205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meowsbian/pseuds/meowsbian
Summary: Dead tired from another fortnight long tryst with no inn, tavern, or lodging in sight, a typical journey for the Nein, Beau and Jester, by the looks of the latter, were ready to collapse as soon as they’d dropped the silver for their room on the dingy tavern counter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What starts as a “there’s only one bed” scenario kind of, maybe develops, depending on how much effort I funnel into this.

 Dead tired from another fortnight long tryst with no inn, tavern, or lodging in sight, a typical journey for the  _ Nein _ , Beau and Jester, by the looks of the latter, were ready to collapse as soon as they’d dropped the silver for their room on the dingy tavern counter. Beau was prodding at one of the more insistent bruises across her arm, her favourite method of diagnosis, when Jester made a noise, a sort of squeaking gasp. “Beau, it’s a double bed.”

The tiefling’s tail was curled around her leg, something Beau recognised as nerves, when she looked up from her arm to the otherwise unremarkable room.  _ That’s  _ why the innkeep winked at the two of them? Oh, Gods. Did they get a reduced rate? 

“Alright, I’ve had worse.” Beau threw her pack around the bedpost furthest from the door, taking off her jacket to bundle under her head, and took the kind of shabby blanket she kept in her pack. She’d talked shit over Caleb and his bread, which still wasn’t good, but she wasn’t much better away from Felderwind. She had sat down and was about to just curl up straight away when Jester jolted out of being frozen in place— she hadn’t moved at all, and her tail was  _ swish _ ing between her legs idly. 

“Beau, I— what? I mean let’s share, it’s big enough, it’s like we could have a sleepover or something? I’ve never had one before and it’s also really cold, so, um?”

Beau stared at her. True, she’d never had a sleepover of her own. Yes, sleeping on the floor would make her back hurt worse than it already did.  _ Yes _ , there was no reason for them not to— “A-are you sure?”

“Yes! Well, if you want to.” The thought arose to Jester that Beau  _ might not  _ want to. She perked up, apprehensive, and chewed at her lip. Of course, Jester did, else she wouldn’t have suggested it.

“Well, I mean, it has been a while. Since I’ve slept in a bed.”

Beauregard clambered to her feet after it seemed Jester probably wasn’t going to rescind her offer, picking up her jacket; it still made a better pillow than that provided most of the time, and they were hardly staying at the  _ Pillow Trove _ . Neither of them were making the first move towards the bed, but both of their gazes were fixed on it.

“D’you want to go to bed straight away?”

“Gods, yeah, I can’t wait.” Beau groaned, immediately gravitating to the thin sheets and slipping off her shoes, outer vestments, and untying her hair. Jester followed suit, a fang still worrying at her lip, and climbed into bed next to Beau, keeping a safe sort of distance. For a while. “Beau?”

“Yeah?”

“So, you know, it’s really really cold. Do you wanna huddle together or something?”

Beau’s voice was pretty strangled. “Uh, yeah, that’s-- that sounds good! Um! Yes.”

She flipped over from where she’d been lying, the flush across her face invisible because of the shade of her skin and the lack of natural light. She still appeared rather high strung, and of course she was, offering out her arms to Jester.

Jester melted into the embrace, the moonlight (lack of) turning the purple across her cheeks to monotone, too. After a moment of guilt, followed by the weird discomfort of her mind reminding her, the only people she ever touched like this she’d…

Her arms wrapped around Jester, and she bit her tongue. 

“Jes?”

“Yes, Beau?”

_ Do you like me? Honestly?  _ “I-... don’t worry about it. Goodnight.”

“Ok _ aaa _ y _ ,  _ goodnight, Beau.”

She really liked the way Jester said her name, her brain chipped in before the rational parts of her could get a word in edgewise. She said it with such gravity, like her name was so  _ pretty _ and  _ good  _ and not just a childish shortening of the perfectly good name she had already.  _ Gods, _ what if they’d named her brother the same thing as her?

She directed her scowl to the wall over Jester’s shoulder, trying her hardest not to let it show through the rest of her body language. Focusing on the softness of the tiefling’s hair, the pattern of light diffracting across her horns, the smooth slope of her back— it helped. Beau  _ knew _ why. She just didn’t want to acknowledge any of it. 

There was no way Jester was getting to sleep for a while. Beau  _ never  _ hugged! It was such a new sensation, that was obviously why it gave her such butterflies. She wanted to savour it. Her arms were so strong, and warm, and  _ Oh, Traveller _ , Jester’s face was so warm. 

Beau thought the same— publicly, about not getting to sleep, but, not that she’d admit it, she wanted to savour something as simple as a cuddle as well. She thought the same, until the point maybe ten minutes in where she nodded off. Jester held her breath, feeling her tail curl around Beau’s leg in anticipation. When she was sure Beau was sleeping, she mumbled a quiet, clearly ecstatic “love you, Beau,” and put all of her effort into trying to sleep, too. 

She still caught the slightly garbled, quiet and muffled “love y’too,” from Beau, which made her insides feel immeasurably warm and fuzzy again. 

 

~~~

 

Jester was the first to wake up, long before her morning prayers, the blessedly quiet period between dawn in the winter and when the rest of the world caught up with the Sun. There were birds singing, and crisp white light filtering into the room from the window, but no noise from people’s activity. Scratch that; there was the noise of Beau right next to her, gentle breathing, and down the hall she could hear Caduceus’ low voice, turned to susurration by the walls between them. Molly slept like the grave (very scary and not at all funny to discover the first night after they got him back), so she supposed it was for Fjord’s sake that Caduceus’ prayers were quiet, but his voice still carried. 

She usually had a lot of time on her hands in the morning, so generally full of energy that she had always woken up early, but usually there wasn’t (there never had been) anybody next to her when she woke. The free time she usually spent drawing,  _ Sending _ to her mother, praying, and memorising her spells suddenly had a far more laid back purpose.

She spent a few minutes carefully detangling herself from Beau so it would be less embarrassing for Beau when she regained consciousness (she didn’t think about herself in that capacity where perhaps she should), and then a little while watching her slumber, and the rise and fall of her chest, before tucking the two of them back in.

She was overcome with some sort of guilt at the edge of her consciousness, her stomach twisting up into knots, and she edged away a little. What if Beau didn’t want to cuddle and was sleep deprived? Why was Jester so happy at the thought of being with her? It couldn’t be normal. Caleb and Fjord were sort of friends and they never hugged.  _ Oh, Traveller! _ Jester  _ liked  _ Fjord and she’d never even hugged him! So why was she so excited over the idea of it with Beau, and so utterly hopelessly ambivalent when it came to Fjord?

She was interrupted from her state of dawning horror, and it must have been at least a little visible on her face, when Beau mumbled, and reached out to pull Jester close— the horns present, or the slight coolness of her skin, or- something- must have been confusing, because she blinked her eyes open. 

Beau looked mortified. “Oh, Gods, I’m sorry Jes, I,” She let go of Jester, and was her face warm? “I didn’t mean to.”

Jester’s emotional conflict must have given Beau the wrong impression! Her eyebrows creased, and she stammered a little before she managed to get her words out. “No, it’s, um! That’s alright Beau, it wasn’t that! I— I mean, I asked, and everything, I thought you wouldn’t want to, um, um. I.”

“Oh. You… okay. I don’t mind, I thought you would, so, I, yeah. It doesn’t really sound like anyone else is up, so if you… want to stay like this that’s fine. With me.”

“Oh, Beau… I’d like that.”

It was a few more minutes of settling very cautiously back into it, before Jester spoke again. “We should, probably get ready to go, though. I don’t know that the rest of the  _ Nein _ are gonna wanna stay here for  _ aaages _ .”

They don’t lock eyes as they get dressed and packed, and it’s a joint effort. Go team. Jester picked up Nugget, an impressive feat given the dog’s size, and they both flung themselves into not thinking about each other  _ that  _ way, preparing for the rest of the day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before, she had been reading Jester’s newest find out of boredom, as they waited for Caleb to finish calling back Frumpkin, sat on the opposite end of the room so their modus operandi of whisper-yelling didn’t break his concentration. Now, Beau was interested.

The pirate’s hand curled into a triumphant fist, and she—

“This one’s got more than one woman in it,” Beau commented, eyebrow raised.

  
“Yeah, well, you know, it’s good to branch out, see what different genres are like, right?”

  
“Different genres— do the two women—”

  
Jester cut her off, and if a flush rose to her cheeks, well, so what. It was fine, it didn’t mean anything.

  
“I can’t spoil it for you, Beau! Keep reading.”  
It was, strangely, suddenly, a more interesting read. Out of nowhere. Before, she had been reading Jester’s newest find out of boredom, as they waited for Caleb to finish calling back Frumpkin, sat on the opposite end of the room so their modus operandi of whisper-yelling didn’t break his concentration. Now, Beau was interested. Molly would tease the shit out of her, if the tiefling wasn’t sat a good metre or two from Caleb, trying his best to be silent.  
Beauregard would flip him off if she didn’t sympathise.

  
She turned the page, and Jester gasped.  
“Nothing— it’s nothing, don’t worry.” The tiefling was decidedly looking away.

Reading on proved obvious. She was starting to find something familiar in the happy-go-lucky elven (pirate) lass, and the battle-hardened, cynical human (pirate) girl, wishful thinking, and-- charged straight ahead into a more sensual scene. Jester was blushing, Beau was blushing, and the latter was mad. She’d been trying so, so hard not to think about Jester like that! It had been weeks since they’d… careful wording… shared a bed, and yet Beau couldn’t get Jester out of her mind.

The tiefling’s soft, or exuberant, smiles, the way her lip would curl up when she knew she shouldn’t be smiling, the way the sunlight scattered across her curly hair, the way she’d pout when she was pretending to be too tired to cast a spell, the soft curve of her cheek, her neck, her stomach, the little fangs she’d glimpse if Jester chewed at her lip, and… Beau nearly made herself too happy to be upset.

It did force her to reexamine her frustration, and hate herself a little. It was childish to get angry at Jester when it wasn’t her fault. She didn’t know that Jester liked girls, for one.

Branching out to different genres aside.

She just re-directed that energy to being frustrated with herself, getting through the scene quickly. Beau leaned back when she’d finished, finding it difficult not to let her relief show. Now she could get back to reading about the tender, blossoming romance between— oh, dammit.

To maybe everyone but Caleb’s surprise, Beau was a fast reader. She never enjoyed it, from learning proper diction and manners when she was a child to reading historical texts with the Cobalt Soul. But, she learned very quickly with the latter that she couldn’t bullshit it, and needed to have retained something. So, still valuing the time she got to spend in combat more than the rest, she practised remembering what she read, and reading quickly.

About ten pages from the end, Caleb climbed to his feet and rubbed his knees with a brand new cat. It was a longer book than Jester remembered— she locked eyes with Molly in an unspoken, despairing bond. He got it.  
Caleb looked over, starting to take in his surroundings, and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Beauregard—”

“Sh! Shh. I’m nearly finished, hold on.”

Interesting. He glanced to Jester, sat engrossed in watching the monk read, stretched, and moved to leave (after some visible deliberation over whether or not he should leave Frumpkin there).

Molly stuck around for a few minutes longer before proclaiming that “this is boring as all hell, I’ll see you two later,” with a flourish, as standard. Beau couldn’t shake herself out of her concentration enough to flip Molly off.  
That was fine. Just the two of them, reading. Correction. Beau was reading, while Jester was propped up on her knees, leaning forward, watching with bated breath. When Beau reached, and finished, the final page, the response was instantaneous. “What do you think?”

“I, uh,” given a few more minutes Beau would’ve been able to act vaguely unimpressed, maybe even like she’d humoured Jester in reading it to begin with. “It’s good. They, um. Yeah. It’s good.”

“I thought so too. My favourite,” Jester’s nearly careful, voice lacking its intonation like she’s thinking about what to say, testing the waters, “is the human lady. She’s so cool.”

“... Yeah. Do you… think that you, like g—”

“You know when Fjord kissed me sort of? Do you think he likes me?”

A few seconds of silence. Her voice had tapered upwards an octave.

“Jes, I don’t know. If he doesn’t, he’s blind, um, what’s this about?”

Jester sucked in a breath. She’d panicked, of course she hadn’t though further ahead, she was going to have to make something up, and— “I’m sorry, I was trying to distract you.”

“Okay. Wh...y?”

“I… okay, okay, okay. I can’t keep on keeping secrets from you I don’t think! It’s gonna drive me mad.” Back to speaking from the (now-thudding audibly) heart, her eyebrows furrowed. “I just didn’t want to tell you. I was nervous, it wasn’t because I thought you’d be, a dick about it or anything! I’m not worried about that.” But she had been worried by something. “I do like girls. I think. I don’t know how you’re meant to know.” Maybe not wholly honest. The other thing was just a suspicion, she didn’t know for sure. It was probably a friend thing. Though… part of why she hadn’t just gone to Yasha had been that she was afraid of what that would mean for her. Yasha was pretty, gorgeous, wonderful, but she didn’t feel the same way about her as she did about Beau— not that she felt like anything about Beau necessarily! Beau was a great friend, her best friend, she didn’t want to throw that away.

Beau trusted Jester enough to take her seriously. This wasn’t one of those ‘I’ll pretend to be interested then laugh behind your back’ things, it was fine. Plus, she must have a crush on Yasha, and hey, they’d all been there.

“Alright. What is it that’s making you, suspect that?”

“Girls are very pretty. Um. It’d be nice to kiss one, I think. You know, looking at my um— past experience.” She’d kissed just so many boys, Beau had no idea, really.

“Is there something making you think you don’t, ‘cause that seems really, resolute.”

“Well, sometimes, I feel like my stomach’s all tied in knots, and my mouth goes all dry and it’s reaaally gross, and my whole face feels all hot.”

Yeah, that made sense, Yasha tended to inspire that in people. Beau, Calianna, most women they’d spoken to, and now Jester. Join the club.

“Okay. That sounds like a crush, Jes, that means you do like girls.” That inspired a revelation in Jester— that she was probably crushing on both Fjord and someone else, logically. So she liked girls and multiple people! Even though she didn’t get those symptoms around Fjord. They’d be hidden, then! Wow, she was sorting out so much stuff, learning so much about herself.

“Okay! Já, that’s great, thank you Beau!”

Beau forgot what she was going to ask at the grin Jester exuded at that, and the silence that stretched between them for a few seconds was comfortable, well-worn. It let Beau think about kissing Jester, and Jester think about kissing Beau, but that was just a brief hiccup before they managed to respectively reign it in.

It was broken, not just by their collective awkward flailing but by Nott’s voice shrill at some personal indignation, Fjord’s laugh taking a few seconds to flesh out and fill the gap that left.

And the wheels of time kept turning, the cogs of fate grinding, a well-oiled machine. In the larger picture not much occurred in that hour, hour and a half, but to the two of them something clicked into place, further than normal. Both of them left smiling.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another week passed, slow-fast in some schadenfraude of the Universe, or Isthmus, or something. Some higher power, evidently intent on torturing Beauregard in the worst possible way. The brief lapse in judgement where she’d let herself think about Jester, properly think about her, was unbearable, and had extended outwards for what felt like every waking moment.

Another week passed, slow-fast in some schadenfraude of the Universe, or Isthmus, or something. Some higher power, evidently intent on torturing Beauregard in the worst possible way. The brief lapse in judgement where she’d let herself think about Jester, properly think about her, was unbearable, and had extended outwards for what felt like every waking moment.

She’d missed a punch because she’d been distracted hearing Jester shout in pain, anger, or some combination, and had spent a furious half an hour re-wrapping her forearms and hands, fuming at herself, a practised art.

She’d been having continuous issue sleeping, hours lost to gazing at the sleeping figure sharing a room with her, who herself slept sparsely and intermittently, perhaps worse torture than her own troubled sleep. Her breath always would catch in her throat when she went to ask why; she didn’t want the disappointment she knew she’d be faced with as to being awake for all that time, too.

Mostly it was the downtime that was the hardest to deal with, when she’d have to pretend she wasn’t looking for slim, niche books that had some chance in hell of articulating how she felt, try not to get caught up staring at Jester, try, try, try not to hypothesise as to what life would be like, if.

That wouldn’t help either of them.

Caleb offered some help in the literature department, quiet and patient when she stumbled over her words trying to explain. A day or two passed (but who was counting?) but Caleb came back with a thin volume, some poet off of Bisaft Isle, that Caleb had a hard time explaining the need for when he bought it. But that wasn’t a complaint, it just followed the normal pattern of Caleb talking to fill the space. Because Beau was for once quiet, not dissatisfied but just a little lost. She was more dedicated in reading, for the two days it took her, than ever before, than with the heavy manuscripts and with the romantic-erotic novels.

So— slowly, Beauregard understood. She had words to place the delicate fire underneath her skin, the softness that stopped her from scowling ever as she felt she was dying. It felt like Jester was worth dying for. Not in battle, not feeling a rush of adrenaline in her bones, that made dying easy. She could imagine just existing with Jester, dying slow each day she would see Jester— waking up to see her in the morning, going to sleep with her in the evening, sharing more silences (comfortable ones, this time). And she couldn’t stop herself from imagining, wondering what it would be like, not at that.

All the same she couldn’t let herself do anything about it, she was unwavering there. Jester would be happier with Fjord, with Yasha, with anyone. Anyone but Beauregard, nobody’s first choice in anything.

~~~

Jester was… a little fed up, if anything. With herself, with the way fate seemed to be steering her, everything. She’d spoken to Veth and to Caduceus, the latter because Veth could be very obvious in where she in place of fate would steer Jester, and that was great and all but she already talked to Beau about it! She didn’t know what insight she’d get about it, and she didn’t want to keep bothering Beau.

But she took a few days to realise these things about herself— namely, that Fjord wasn’t the knight in shining armour she’d read about, that maybe she didn’t need her Love (capital L) to be a knight in shining armour, and that she really didn’t have much of an idea past that.

She knew what people did once they were in love, but she wasn’t so sure how to get to that part.

Books were very descriptive, but she had some inkling that the books weren’t very accurate there, either. She didn’t feel anything in her bosom, though her heart ached and twisted, and she didn’t stay awake tossing and turning thinking about Fjord or Yasha. The latter was just overshadowed by her overwhelming friendship with Beau, keeping her mind occupied. Plus, they talked all the time, and shared a room, it was only natural.  
So, over tea with Veth, the married and obviously knowledgeable woman, she sought advice on the warning signs- the symptoms- of being in love, for a second time in the month.

Veth was patient and kind, if very, very biased. She was the perfect person to explain and break down her misconceptions without totally ruining Jester, using the real and soft example of how she loved Yeza, and how Yeza loved her— ‘the wrong body, but the right me.’ It was a quiet revelation, that lead to Jester realising her lack of attraction to Fjord (aside from physically), and then to Yasha (same there, too).

It was a little more bumpy when Jester realised who it was she loved, and for whom she sighed for, felt her gaze lingering on, stayed awake at night for— not tossing and turning, like in the books, just pining, thinking. She may have cried, briefly, shocked and very afraid because it really was love she felt, and it felt so fragile, and she didn’t know entirely how she’d cope. Beau was her best friend.

Most importantly, Beau flirted like a motherfucker. She’d surely have told her if she felt anything, if she wanted to share the less sentimental part of her books, if… anything. She didn’t seem to take much issue with flirting with Yasha until recently.

But Jester was very good at hiding how she felt, and the fear and trepidation that loomed more often than not, so she didn’t let it show. She just watched Beau a little sadly, a little forlorn, and found herself wondering what made her different, why she wasn’t good enough. Which all of the Nein she mentioned that to denied, until she stopped sharing her feelings so much. There would be some reason, and she had to find it!

~~~

So— Jester had been sat next to Beau half of an hour into their watch together, now, trying desperately to find words to mention something, anything. She ended up pressed to the monk’s side, complaining loudly of the cold, and biting her lip again. Beau seemed resolute in looking forward, vigilant as ever in her watch. She was so cool, so unperturbed by anything.

“Hey, Beau?”

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking. In case kissing girls is different to kissing boys, I’m like super experienced with one and not at all with the other, which is pretty embarrassing.”

“Nobody’s good at first,” Beau began, slow like she was distracted. “Where are you going with this?”

“Would you teach me how to kiss girls? Like, you’re a girl, I’m a girl, would that be… alright with you?”

There was some shifting of the bedrolls closest to them, a glimpse of red hair either encouraging or nigh vindictive. It was hard to tell, but the wizard gave Jester a pointed look before turning over and rendering himself inscrutable again. Frumpkin just curled back up in the space he left, the purring reaching Jester’s ears even from a distance.

“... yeah, okay.”

That, in contrast, could have taken weeks for her mind to start to process, thoughts buzzing in her head. She bit her tongue, for once (though it was more common for her to be mindful around Beauregard as of late) thinking about the words she was going to say.

“So, um. Not to look a, a gift horse in the mouth or anything but— why?” When she eventually spoke it was hurried, stumbling over the metaphor a little.

“Did you think you’d need to convince me, or something? It’s— it’s all casual, and everything, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Jester nearly audibly sighed in relief. She was thinking in the short term, and absolutely nothing of the long term repercussions of her actions— but, if Beau was fine with it, maybe Jester could ask again sometime, and the monk wouldn’t find out how she felt, and there would be zero risk of ruining their friendship. All reward, literally no risk, no way it could go wrong.

“So do you wanna—… how do we…”

Beau’s shoulders tensed, before she seemed to relax, or deflate, or something similar, and she cupped Jester’s cheek in her hand, leaning in to press her lips to the tiefling’s.  
Nothing earth-shatteringly beautiful, or all encompassing. It was good, definitely, soft and sweet in a way that balanced the awkwardness, and when they pulled apart Jester’s lips tingled, and her heart was beating fast, but it was nothing like the books.

With an added bonus of hiding her expression, but centred wholly on the build up of emotions in her chest, Jester leaned forward to cushion her head on Beau’s shoulder, willing herself not to blush. “That was good. Was I okay? It wasn’t too bad, was it?”

They tried to approach it clinically, logically, quietly talking in a hum that carried them through to the end of their watch. No disturbances, none of the Nein noticing to their knowledge, no nothing. It was such a little thing for both of their hearts to stutter over, gently guiding them towards the knowledge, solid and real, that they were in love.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get tense and then better!

Being in love was drastic and different to both of them. Both exponentially more serious than a teensy crush on Fjord, and loving, however briefly, Tori in Kamordah.

In the microcosm of downtime they got in Zadash for a few weeks, it was the paramount issue to deal with. For all of the Nein to deal with, except fuck that sideways, they both silently agreed they’d never bring it up with any of the others, not any more than they already had. 

Beau took Caleb to the Archive of the ‘Soul again, and Jester spent a good few days painting, touring the city’s temples and shrines, her favourite kind of missionary work. Even then, they managed to slot in a good week of time together, platonic under any and all meaning outside of their thoughts. It was almost ordinary, like back before they knew.  
Almost. Keyword. 

A week, during which ignoring each other would be acknowledging that something was different, but actually acting like nothing was wrong was too strenuous. It was just a matter of time before something snapped. 

They got three days in to their shared week— again, as it often happened with the two of them, the turning point was soft, and subtle, no suddenly momentous acts of passion, or any over dramatic confessions. It wasn’t like Jester’s books. It wasn’t so painfully exhilarating as tension built, for one, more just the painful part. 

They were half asleep when it happened, sat up under the covers of their pushed together beds (they’d wanted a sleepover), and as such they weren’t so tired not to be driven to it, but they- or Beau, at least- were lacking the better judgement that would have stopped it from the approach. 

They were talking about their plans, for the future— Xhorhouse was nice but Jester longed to set up a nice little cottage somewhere where her mother would be safe, where she could keep Nugget and Sprinkle and all the tiger cubs she wanted— and Beau wanted a home she cared about, with a real family. The where didn’t matter as much as the who, and it was mumbling something about still living with, or rooming with, platonic code she figured she’d made up herself, that she did it. She leaned forward to kiss Jester, no premise of practice, no convoluted excuse she could think of. Not that she was thinking of excuses when she reached a hand up to Jester’s cheek, closed her eyes. 

Time didn’t slow down or stretch around the moment like Caleb was fucking around in the room one over, Essek or no. It was over in an instant as Beau jerked away, the heat at her cheeks illuminated by their borrowed Driftglobe (the Zemnian for which they mangled). Her usual desperate stammer and attempts at bullshit absent from the exhaustion edging at her mind and her own shock, she just leaned back, shut her mouth, and swallowed nervously, eyes wide despite her best efforts. 

“Beau,” Jester started, voice gentle but loud in her ears compared to the heavy silence settled between the two of them, “Are you secretly in love with me?” She kept a smile, softer than her usual teasing, all teeth grin, which dropped after a moment. Replaced by a look of soft panic that made Beau’s chest ache, she fidgeted a little with her hands, and her tail swished nearly unseen behind her. Her cheeks burned violet in the light. 

“I’m sorry.” Beau said, tentative and rough and a combination of scared and resigned. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

“Beau.” Jester repeated, a ghost of a whisper on her lips. The tiefling pulled her into her arms, resting her chin on top of her messy, untied hair after having nearly poked an eye out with her horns the other way around. It was a cuddling setup they were used to, but— like a lot of things were over time, it was different. The tears at both of their eyes weren’t too unusual, when smiling wasn’t bearable, when Jester missed her mother, when Beau hated looking at herself, and the quiet between them was the same, if usually a little more well-received. “Beau, Beau, don’t be sorry, it’s okay. I love you too. I love you too, before you say anything, I want to kiss you all the time and I— the future won’t be a good one if you’re not in it with me.”

“You do?” 

It was the falter in Beau’s voice, quiet and uneven and scared, that made Jester sob, pull her impossibly closer and press soft kisses to the top of her head. 

“Of course I do, Beau.”

“I love you, too. I mean, shit, fuck, I know we’ve both already said it, I just…” she sighed, closed her eyes against the crook of Jester’s neck where she’d settled. “I love you too, you mean the world to me, I… I never thought I’d have a future outside of intervening in wars, or, I don’t know, the Cobalt Soul. I want my future to be with you, Jes.”

“Beau!” Jester’s voice had risen an octave and a few ten decibels, but it was enough to mask the whisper-shouting from the room one over, through thin tavern walls. Well, Jester noticed, but it would totally ruin things. She could just ask Caleb what he and Fjord heard, or had talked about; he’d be convincible with the aid of some books or ink. “Thank you. I want that too. I want you to kiss me again, is that okay?”

Beau answered in the way she usually reverted to, wordlessly, drawing back from the crook of Jester’s neck to hold her jaw and kiss her again.

The quiet sent circulating made the soft murmur of voices audible to both of them, and Beau eventually drew back. She was going to punch Caleb in the arm when she saw him, and her heart wasn’t going to be in it at all. Shit. “We should probably. Go to sleep. Right?”

“Yeah, we should.” A whisper, and an uncertain pause. “Goodnight, Beau. Love you.”

“Love you too, Jes.”

Jester gave an impossibly adorable soft noise, and pulled her close again, and though the cold still nips at their fingers, the window of their room approaching fractional glazing with how loose it is from the frame, they share in each other’s warmth and it’s like a duvet from the Lavish Chateau couldn’t possibly warm them up more. Infernal blood and warm skin or just happiness blooming in their chests’, it didn’t matter, the outcome was the same; they fell asleep warm and content in each other’s arms, no nightmares.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Listen up, assholes.”
> 
> “Okay, okay, okay. So. So!” 
> 
> “Yeah, so, we. Uh.” 
> 
> The Nein seemed to regard them with some patience while Beau and Jester looked to be figuring things out. 
> 
> Then, when they looked to still be figuring things out after a drawn out ten seconds or so, it was an anxious (well, more anxious than usual) Caleb with a furrowed brow who spoke. “Are you two alright?”

“Listen up, assholes.”

“Okay, okay, okay. So. So!” 

“Yeah, so, we. Uh.” 

The Nein seemed to regard them with some patience while Beau and Jester looked to be figuring things out. 

Then, when they looked to still be figuring things out after a drawn out ten seconds or so, it was an anxious (well, more anxious than usual) Caleb with a furrowed brow who spoke. “Are you two alright?”

“Yeah!” And simultaneously, “Já!”

Another beat of uncomfortable silence. Veth gave the two of them a searching look. 

“Actually— uh— Widogast— Caleb. Scooch over— yeah— for a sec.” Beau and Caleb shuffled awkwardly a distance to the side. Jester grinned at her in the encouraging way she would when she was very obviously and vocally glad that she wasn’t involved in whatever the recipient of the expression was being put through. She gave two thumbs up. 

“So, so, y’know the stuff I was telling you about?” Caleb looked like he was close to interrupting, because they tended to talk about a lot, but- “-the, uh— me and Jessie, we’re… dating? Seeing each other? You know, you get the idea, I’m sure.”

Caleb was quiet for a moment, and he laughed, soft and hushed. Beau punched him in the arm, hissing a quiet “Caleb,” and that stopped him completely, his face a view of very real pain and regret. 

“Entschuldigung. Ich- I… ja, Beauregard, for a few weeks now. Were you trying to hide it?” 

“Well, we weren’t trying to be obvious about it. Hold on— a few weeks? Caleb, it’s been, like, two days.” 

“Nein, you’ve been— you kissed fifteen days past. You— oh. Beauregard, you are so oblivious.” Caleb was nearly smirking now. Bastard. 

“Do the— is this a you thing or does everybody sort of, know?” Her words were a whispered hiss, and she wasn’t sure which answer, which outcome, would be best. 

“Everyone knows, Beau. Well— Fjord and I know,” and fuck, that’s why they were talking, “and Veth told me that she was talking to the blue one a little bit. I would be surprised if Mollymauk does not know. Um.”

“Thanks. Yeah, great, that’s. Thanks, Widogast.”

“You know we do not mind, right? Some could be driven to say it is even cute, at times.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you too.”

“... thanks, man. We should—” And she pointed, over to where Fjord was trying not to watch them and to where Molly glanced away from her extended finger with some semblance of guilt. Emphasis on semblance. 

Caleb hummed, stepped aside with a one moment hand gesture, and as discreetly as possible (not much, with the Nein’s faltering, relative degrees of staring) took out his copper wire to have a quick back and forth in Veth’s direction, presumably. 

He gave the go-ahead.

They moved back in line with the rest of the Nein in their cramped setting of choice, a slightly dingy tavern. Beau slid back in next to Jester, and carefully, with no end to her caution, reached for her hand on the slightly sticky, slightly more warped table. 

There was half a second of stunned, or possibly completely un-stunned silence. 

Veth jumped onto the table surface with intensity enough that Beau whipped her head to the side, fearing some sudden, inexplicable flood. “You! What! You two are! Holy shit! I had no idea, wow! I can’t believe—” and her voice, in some forced shrill, faltered at Jester’s quiet laughter. 

She climbed back into her seat very nearly sheepishly, or at least in some approximation of it, deftly avoiding the tankards that hadn’t been knocked over by the leap. 

“We were, um, that obvious, then?” Jester’s voice was smaller than usual, but the smile that played at her lips was soft and genuine. Beau’d gotten good at telling the difference, after all. 

“I’m sorry, yeah,” Veth admitted with a shrug, grin apologetic around all the spiky teeth. “But you two are cute, it’s disgusting, don’t you dare stop.” 

“Yeah, Beau, I’m not gonna apologise for being me, but you two are pretty disgusting, I can see why you get so pissed when I’m-” Molly gestures in a wide sweep of the hand, and is promptly interrupted- 

“-pining?” Beau nudges.

“I was going to say ‘seducing’.” His cheeks weren’t pink, and he didn’t look sheepish, because Mollymauk Tealeaf wasn’t one to blush or pine or regret. “Just tone it down. It’s saccharine.”

He stuck out his tongue at them, and if the heavy, panicky bullshit of mutual hidden affection didn’t hang above Beau’s head like the now ghostly, pure reminder of an axe, she’d trivialise the four, hmm, six eyes trained on that motion. 

She settled for flipping him off, and fighting the smile she felt threatening her face. 

“Being someone who has lollipops and unicorns coming out of the wazoo, like seriously, you guys— I can't promise anything, Molly!”

“Not you, dear, fighting you on that would be like fighting time. You.”

Crimson eyes find Beau’s brown. 

“The insults, keep them coming. Don’t make me care about you.” He threatened, raising an eyebrow. 

“Don’t worry, you make that very easy.” 

They exchange ‘fuck you’s like it’s a ritual and Beau lets that worry ease out of her mind. The Nein’s collective unenthusiastic expressions help that too, even Fjord who she’d been… needlessly worried about, as it turned out. It seemed they were all on their way to finding love in this tavern tonight. 

“Okay, so, we haven’t even said anything about it and you are all making it seem like the next Chair shit. We’re far from the most exciting shit going on in the tavern alone, though Jes does toe the line there, so— let’s. Noses to the grindstone?”

As it turned out, noses to the grindstone meant that Caleb would burrow his nose deep into the book he’d kindly set aside out of the way while they spoke, it meant Veth trying to force pocket bacon into the mouth of everyone she could reach, it meant Beau holding Jester’s hand through the night, and it meant another round of drinks. What it did not mean was actually planning their next day, left for the groggy irritable predawn ten hours away, or the group falling apart at the seams. It meant growth and sickly sweet intra-group teasing. It meant another day, another little bond woven between them. 

Plus, it meant she got to kiss Jester quite a lot more. 

 

“When I'm weak I draw strength from you   
And when you're lost I know how to change your mood   
And when I'm down you breathe life over me   
Even though we're miles apart-  
-we are each other's destiny”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh guys I’m so happy with this! Now’s Finally the time to say the title is from the song Destiny by Zero 7. Hope you like this ending I... it’s been super fun if sporadic.


End file.
